


I could've gone to work

by Darke_Eco_Freak



Series: It's different but we still work [4]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Mr. Robot gets stood up, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darke_Eco_Freak/pseuds/Darke_Eco_Freak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot was stubborn, he was. Whenever he set his mind on something he rarely changed it so why was he at home instead of work? Why did he choose Shayla instead of Mr. Robot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I could've gone to work

"You can't go to work, you have to call in sick," Shayla argued but what other choice did he have? Stay home and think about how badly he'd fucked up? How Krista'd found out about the morphine just after he got rid of his supplier? How Mr. Robot had pushed him off the railing and, essentially, out of fsociety entirely?

"You're right," he admitted because she was. He needed to get this bug out of his system, pick through his firewalls and security software to find the breach then the bug itself. He needed to think about getting himself out of this, just because Robot had kicked him out didn't mean he had no ties to fsociety. He needed a deep cleaning, he needed to  _wipe_.

"W-hell yeah I am. Call me if you need anything," she prompted, leaving him with a couple vicodin before closing the door quietly behind her. He stared at the little pills for a full minute, they were good quality, Shayla always had high grade but he had something better. His morphine was running low, lower than he'd ever wanted to see it but he needed this, the pain wasn't localized and if he didn't get numb he'd break.

He took twice as much as his rules let him, snorted it in two lines and dropped back on his couch waiting for the relief to come. Flipper, loving little thing, hopped up next to him and took a nap on his lap while he took off on his high, the pain fading to a more manageable ache while things like hunger and exhaustion lost importance. He sat there, petting Flipper and looking at Qwerty for maybe twenty minutes, turning over the problem of Steel Mountain in his head, over and over.

He'd told Mr. Robot he had another solution, a better plan, but that had been a lie, to stall, to get enough time to come up with a real answer. He didn't want to kill anyone, he couldn't, what was the point of saving the world if people ended up dead along the way? No he couldn't let fsociety take out the plant but he couldn't just leave them with no next step. If they really had the Dark Army on their side, they were capable of anything and if blowing up the plant wasn't viable then doing some other radical thing might be.

"Flipper, walks," he murmured, she perked up right away and bounded over to the door, waiting for him to put on her leash. Elliot scrubbed at his face, he needed to think about this but he couldn't do it in his apartment, he felt caged in, suffocating, and for once he couldn't stay inside. He sprinkled a few fish flakes for Qwerty and hooked up Flipper's leash. He didn't knock at Shayla's door and he left his phone home, he didn't need anyone using it to track him down.

The sunlight was abrasive but grounding, the discomfort reminded him that he needed to be careful while he was high otherwise he might mess up, might go in to work or out to the arcade. He let Flipper run wherever she wanted to, jogged when she got insistent and started to drag him, flat out ran when something interested her. He let her take care of them, she was a smart dog, and went along on autopilot.

' _Can_  we stop them? They're talented Darlene wrote that rootkit and it was awesome. Mobley can get schematics to anywhere, he has the plan for Steel Mountain from whatever secure files they kept it in. Trenton and Romero, they're talented  _and_  desperate to do something, but they don't  ** _need_**  fsoceity.

They don't need it like Darlene and Mobley do. Trenton could go back to her regular college life, more bitter, more jaded, but she could go back. Romero, well, I'm sure he's got tons of back up files he can access, he's a guy with ten plan B's for when plan A crashes. And Mr. Robot?

Mr. Robot's willing to sacrifice people for the cause, the good of the many over the few. Who knows just how far he'll go to start this revolution? And he needs us, needs  ** _me_** , he said that, didn't he? Was that a lie? To get in my head? He's after my source code, I need to put up another firewall, I need to wipe. No, I need to find a better solution for them. Something that won't hurt anyone, no one innocent at least, the .1% deserved to burn.

Burn, burn right up like dry Fall leaves, curl up and burn up.  _Burn_ like...that's it. The Steel Mountain backups are on real tape, when it gets too hot plastic warps and data's lost. But Steel Mountain would have fail safes for temperature spikes, their thermostats would be…accessible. A raspberry pie utilizing the thermostat connection would be able to get in under their radar and they'd never find the source until it was too late. We could leave it dormant until we got the Dark Army on the redundant information in China. We'd just need to get in and plant our bug. '

Talking with his friend was always productive, they were like a rubber duck, only instead of programming bugs his friend helped him work out real life bugs. And Elliot knew about space heaters and heating companies didn't he. He'd been looking them up, learning about them because his was broken, bugged out, his and Shayla's. He'd learned as much as he could about them, hoping to save a few bucks by fixing them himself instead of calling the super, who wouldn't do jack shit anyway.

"You looking to buy or just curious?" the voice jarred him out of his imaginary conversation and back to the reality of downtown New York. How far had Flipper taken him? And why did she drag him to an ice cream truck? He must look like some kind of pervert, standing stock still next to a playground with his little dog, dressed all in black. It was amazing that no one had tried to get him to move yet, or maybe they had and he hadn't noticed.

"Triple fudge Sunday, and a plain vanilla," Mr. Robot, of course Mr. Robot, answered, pulling out a few crumpled bills while the man rolled his eyes at them. Elliot was too tired and too fed up to act surprised, besides, it would probably look weird if he assaulted the man in public. He'd just wait until they were out of sight because there was no way he was letting go being pushed a fucking railing.

"So Elliot, how've you been? Heard you were in the hospital, got jumped by some kids," Robot added as though it was some kind of joke. The man handed over the ice cream, Robot paid and Elliot grabbed the back of his shirt, he wasn't going to touch the man. There was some construction going on across the street and the scaffolding providing a nice dark spot away from people.

"You're crazy," he breathed, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him in close.

"You're insane," he muttered, completely insane. Elliot never should've followed Robot that day, forget that, he never should've let Robot into his apartment, never should've tried to take anything for himself because look at how it ended up. And he'd been right, he'd taken something for himself and it had all ended horribly, was still horrible because this wasn't over yet.

"Listen, you're mad, I get that. So here's what, why don't you punch me right in the face? Go ahead, it'll make you feel better," Mr. Robot offered, holding the ice-cream away and tilting his head back, giving Elliot the perfect shot. He could take it too, he wasn't beyond physical violence as much as he didn't want to hurt people, he would if they gave him a reason to.

"I should turn you in to the police, tell them about fsociety and the hack. You wouldn't have time to wipe," he hissed, talking to himself or to Robot? He wasn't sure, Flipper tugged at her leash and his head snapped down. She looked scared, worried? Was she worried about Robot?

"You call the cops and you'll get taken down with us and if they snoop around enough, they'll find all those illegal hacks you did. Hey, if they're really good, they'll even find out about Vera. So ya see, you take us out and you take yourself out Elliot," was Mr. Robot laughing at him? He pushed someone off a fucking railing and then came back to heckle them? He really was cracked and Elliot couldn't handle touching him anymore, he let go of the man's shirt as though it was on fire.

"How did you find me?" he asked, crouching down so he could soothe Flipper and break eye contact. He felt disgust, with himself or Robot he couldn't tell, maybe it was both. Himself because he didn't have the guts to take out fsociety, to keep going without his morphine, he didn't even have the guts to tell his therapist about his very blatant addiction. He was disgusted with Mr. Robot because, well, wasn't it obvious?

"You're not that hard to find kiddo, besides, you're a creature of habit. Either you're home, you have work or the Flipster needs a walk," Robot explained stooping so they were on the same level and sticking the vanilla cone in Flipper's face. She stared at it, titling her head both ways before licking the ice cream, more than happy to fill the awkward silence with something delicious. Elliot watched her as she enjoyed her treat, at least someone was glad Robot was here, and watching her made him not have to look at the man.

He was unhinged, certifiable even, he wanted to kill innocent people in an  _attempt_  to take out the hacker's dilemma. There was no guarantee that blowing up the natural gas company would take out all the data at Steel Mountain, they couldn't even be sure a fire would affect the vaults at all. No, Elliot's plan was much better, fry the tapes, warp them and everything would be lost. The only thing was, did he even want to suggest his plan?

Mr. Robot had said Elliot was the key to the whole thing, without Elliot Alderson fsociety wasn't going anywhere. Or maybe it was a lie to gain his trust, who the fuck knew what was real or fake anymore?

"We better eat this before it melts," Robot suggested after Flipper finished off her treat and started snuffling around for more. Elliot'd forgotten about the other one, the triple fudge sundae in a plastic cup with two spoons and nuts but not peanuts, pistachio nuts because peanuts made him cough. And Elliot was seven years old again, sitting at one of the tables in the little ice cream shop a block away from his school with a triple fudge sundae in front of him.

He would keep his backpack on and sit on his legs so he could lean across the table, his dad would feed him bites of the whipped cream and sometimes dab it on his nose. He'd pick the nuts out of the ice cream and leave them on a napkin for later, Elliot would eat the chocolate and his dad would take the strawberry because Elliot never liked strawberry.

He stared and stared at the slowly melting treat, at the vanilla and chocolate and fudge soup that it was turning into and wanted to puke. Elliot hadn't eaten ice-cream, any ice-cream, after his father died, he couldn't, it would be like sharing food with a dead man. It would be like trying to share ice-cream with his dad again, like he was really there for Elliot to laugh and talk and be with. He had enough problems trying to convince himself the men in black were in his head, weren't real, without his father's ghost haunting him.

"You aren't betraying him. If anything, you'd be celebrating his memory!" Robot near shouted at him, somewhere between frustrated, elated and plain annoyed. Elliot opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and ran through the answers he had on the tips of his fingers. 'He's dead, what's the point?' or 'You and him are nothing alike', he could even say 'Take a long walk off a short pier'. The last one would be good, cutting, appropriate but none of the words could find their way past his throat, they never did.

"I want pizza," he said instead because he couldn't say any of the things he wanted to, couldn't force them past his lips or out of his head. He wanted to knock the sundae out of the man's hands, to kick it away, and leave Mr. Robot behind him. He stood up instead, took stock of their surroundings just in case the men in black were on his tail, he needed to be more careful about them. Now more than ever.

"We can get pizza," Robot allowed, tossing the plastic cup behind his head and taking Elliot's hand firmly in his. He jerked, instinct kicking in as he tried to snatch his hand back, to kill the skin on skin contact but the man wasn't letting him go. He stared wide eyed, panic mounting, as Mr. Robot casually lit up a cigarette and took a drag as though Elliot wasn't on the edge of full blown hysteria.

"You have to break out of that Elliot, someday you might not be able to pull away," Mr. Robot said, voice low and eyes looking somewhere past him. He had to know that Elliot hated him right now, sort of, in a roundabout way that was more of just hating himself for being an idiot. He left his hand where it was and pretended to not care as they walked down the street.

And wherever the hell this pizza place was, it was further from Elliot's house than he would've chose to walk. They were already twenty minutes into their walk and Mr. Robot hadn't shut up once, Elliot didn't even know what he was talking about anymore and all the while he chewed over his revised plan. They would still need to get inside Steel Mountain to plant the raspberry pie which would require massive intel gathering and proper covers. Mobley was their blueprints man, he already had the Steel Mountain layout but there was still the issue of how deep the connection needed to be and who would go in.

"I'll go in," he said because it was his plan and if he got caught, the rest of fsociety could continue just like they were now.

"Well okay, I want breadsticks." W-what? They were standing in front of a little hole in the wall store and Mr. Robot had taken Flipper's lead from him. Okay,  _okay_ ,  ** _okay_**? He could do this, he bought food all the time, sort of, this shouldn't be any different but it was because Mr. Robot was there and this was a challenge, wasn't it? Time for him to really prove he was willing to join fsociety and if he was going to plant the pie, he would have to interact with people.

He ducked into the shop, leaving his hoodie up and waited in line behind a college girl and a man with tattoos criss crossing his skin in confusing , meaningless patterns. There were two people behind the counter, a cashier and a woman ducking in and out, taking things from the oven and dropping them in the display case, they had breadsticks.

"Can I have a dozen breadsticks please?" he asked, the familiar panic thrumming in the background like loud music that was just too far away to understand. Should he have gotten breadsticks alone? Did he even want pizza? How did Mr. Robot find him? Elliot should've been at work, there was no way the man could've known he wasn't home unless he checked the apartment. There was no way anyone could see up into his apartment from the street, he had curtains, so how did Mr. Robot know?

"Thank you," he murmured, handing over the money and leaving before the cashier could make change.

"How did you know I wasn't home?" he demanded, shoving the paper bag of breadsticks between them as Flipper started growling, she didn't like angry voices. And Elliot was angry, the rage that had gotten lost when Robot showed up finding its way back and Elliot was  _pissed_. He'd told the man about his father, his dead father whom he loved and had been betrayed by only to be betrayed in his memory. This was fucked up and Elliot wanted answers.

"How did you know?" he shouted not caring about the people around them, not even caring how crazy he looked shouting at an apparent homeless man. He was nearly out of morphine, there was the chance he could be caught for cyber terrorism, his therapist knew he wasn't listening to her, his life was falling apart and all that without the intervention of Tyrell Wellick. He didn't need Mr. Robot pulling cryptic shit, benevolent one second and hostile the next, he didn't need any of it.

"Easy there kiddo, wouldn't want to scare the normies now would we? How about we go somewhere nice and quiet and talk about this like people?" and it as just more bullshit about calming down, about pretending everything was normal. It reminded him of his mother; she liked to pretend everything was fine and dandy too, that there was never anything wrong with their family. She even pretended that her husband was still alive sometimes, when she got wasted on cheap alcohol, she had like to make believe her husband hadn't died a coward and Elliot would always have to play along.

"I know how to get into Steel Mountain, I need you to get everyone together tonight," he whispered, staring into those deep green eyes, those familiar green eyes, was he insane to do this? Trick question, he most certainly was. He was off his meds, he didn't have any morphine left, he was stressed out and messed up, he needed help but he would burn out before his tongue unstuck long enough to ask for it.

"I can do that, of course I can, now how about we just bring it back down," Mr. Robot suggested but Elliot'd had enough. He knew where this would end up if he let the man talk him down, with him on his knees in a dirty alley, or on his back in his apartment, or on the arcade floor, or pushed up against one of the games, and he didn't want that. He didn't want pity sex or congratulations sex, he didn't want Mr. Robot to  _touch_  him let alone fuck him.

"No, no, we're not going anywhere with you," he breathed, he wanted to spit the words, to shout them but he never could. All he could do was turn tail and run, well not really run but walk away as quickly as he could because running away in a black hoodie in the middle of the day was a suspicious thing to do. If he ran, Mr. Robot would probably start shouting, calling after him and drawing attention he didn't want so Elliot walked away.

He didn't need to direct Flipper as they left, she knew it was time to go home and maybe she even understood what had just happened, she was a smart dog. There were things Robot wasn't telling him, like how Darlene had found his place, how Robot had known where to find him, bits and pieces were missing, enough to put him on edge. He wanted to wipe but what did he wipe? This was real life, not a hacking scheme; he couldn't take his life apart with a cheap hand drill or burn it all to hell in his microwave.

The super changed the code every month, sometimes every week if another break in/murder had happened nearby and it was low tech enough to not be able to hack but high tech enough to not be able to pick without setting off the alarm. Sometimes the alarm went off if when the code  _was_  inputted, sometimes it went off if the rain fell too hard, there were no chance Robot could've made it up without setting it off.

"Shayla? What're you doing?" Because almost falling over his former drug dealer/friend/high hook up was probably the least surprising thing that day and the only one he'd get an actual answer for. There were at least a dozen colourful fliers on the hallway floor and a pile of cloth leaning against the wall while Shayla scrambled around on her hands and knees.

"Elliot, I thought you were staying home to rest," Shayla huffed, flipping some hair out of her face and gathered up two of the fliers. He bent down to help her and noticed they were all help wanted ads for various restaurants, none of them paying more than minimum wage. Right, Shayla needed a new source of money since Vera'd been put away, he'd forgotten about that or maybe he'd just pretended it didn't matter.

"I had to walk Flipper," he explained, scooping up the rest of the fliers and holding them out to her, she didn't take them. She gathered up her pile of cloth and nodded for him to follow her up to their apartments, there were more pieces of cloth spread out across her floor and her bed and table, there wasn't a single surface that didn't have some bit of material on it. Some of the pieces, the smaller ones, were intricate, the stitch work tight and the patterns vibrant as they created everything from floral scapes to Coney Island's skyline.

Elliot had never seen any of these, had any idea they'd existed which meant Shayla hadn't ever posted them anywhere. Was this her bug? He hacked people, got involved with dangerous shit, and she made beautiful pieces of art? Somehow that was just like Shayla, to sell drugs as her main thing and make these on the side, maybe he didn't know her as well as he'd thought. Maybe he should've listened to his own advice when he told Mr. Robot that the world wasn't that binary, he needed to get out from behind his computer screen.

"These are amazing. You're going to sell them?" and he could see Shayla doing that sort of thing, she could have an etsy store, he could help her set it up. It might be hard getting her known but he could hack a few sites and advertise for her, without her knowing of course, maybe even leave advertisement emails for people that lived close by to start off. Besides, Shayla already had a great work ethic and knew how to manage money, Elliot had no doubt she'd be able to turn a profit within her first quarter.

"Nah, it's more of a hobby, maybe one day. Sides, I gotta find a place to work first and turn all respectable like you," she teased, dumping everything on one side of the couch and went around folding up all the pieces. He watched her, the way she… _danced_  from place to place, the way she never seemed to care about anything, she was so beautiful.

"I'm not respectable," he mumbled, leaving the door open behind him as he unlocked his apartment, the new lock stuck and he had to push hard to get it open.

"You're a really decent guy Elliot," Shayla informed him while he unhooked Flipper's leash, she immediately ran off to her stuffed toys and sat down on one. A decent guy, how could she tell? What was her measure of decent? Shayla was so innocent sometimes, like when she tried to give him freebies, it was her way of saying she liked him but she'd never come right out and tell him. That was okay though, it wasn't like he needed her to say it, wasn't like he'd ever say it himself.

'Shayla, I like you.'

'Shayla I would like to be your boyfriend.'

'Shayla you're one of the best people I know, I love you.'

Why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he ever say it? He wanted to, he knew how to physically say the words but somewhere between his brain and his mouth the message would get lost.

"You look kinda lost, you're not like, spacing out from a concussion or something are you?" Shayla asked, moving closer with a vague expression of panic. Even when he wasn't doing anything, Elliot still managed to worry her, he didn't want her to be worried. He was already the reason she needed to find a new job, he'd had Vera locked up and even though he had good reasons for it, she'd asked him not to do anything and he hadn't listened. He wanted to make it up to her.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, the signal getting crossed in the worst way because he did want to kiss her but he'd meant to say 'You're amazing'. Still, it was better to ask permission, it would be the first time they were kissing while somber, he wasn't sure if the rules of inebriated sex applied here.

"Don't ask dummy," Shayla sighed, putting her arms around his neck and carefully pulling him closer. This kiss was different the ones they had while drunk, it was coordinated and slow and nice because Shayla knew how to keep him calm. She didn't box him in, didn't make him think he had to touch her anywhere but the obvious, she lead him gently but firmly. If he tried, he was pretty sure he could have a good life with Shayla, they could move out of this neighbourhood, maybe even buy a real house together.

"So what was that about?" she asked when they parted, but not far, he could smell the strawberries on her breath. She loved strawberries and always bought them when she could, it was his smell for her.

"Would you be my girlfriend?" Because sometimes he managed to say exactly what he meant to, but only sometimes. Surprise, shock, happiness, he was glad that Shayla settled on happy instead of angry or disgusted, he wasn't sure how he'd take Shayla being mad at him too. He needed someone on his side, a real someone, and Shayla had been on his side for an entire year from the very second she'd barged into his apartment and life.

"Yeah, sure," she answered, her expression fond but a little confused, they'd been avoiding this for nearly their entire acquaintance. The first time they'd had sex, it had been in her apartment and Elliot had left before she woke up but he'd left her coffee and the money he owed her for the morphine. The second time had been in his apartment, they'd smoked weed until everything was soft and fuzzy then fucked until everything was warm and quiet.

Sex with Shayla was never a demand, it was an offer, a favour that they both asked for. He wanted to kiss her again, maybe have sex with her right now. It would be slow and sweet, not like Robot, no Shayla actually cared about him, she was his friend. His girlfriend now.

He was about to reach for her, or maybe she was going to come to him, she was good at reading his intentions in his eyes when his phone sang out a message alert. Right, he'd left it home while he went out, Angela was probably worried, he hadn't come in to work today and he hadn't made an attempt to contact her.

"You should probably get that," Shayla mumbled, leaning back against his counter, did he have coffee? She liked vanilla lattes, maybe he could make her one after he made sure Angela knew he hadn't died in his apartment or ditched out again.

-Gideon's having a party tonight, you're invited.-

-he's really worried about you E.-

-I'm worried about you 2-

-Where are you?-

-Elliot srsly, answer me-

"Do you want to go to a dinner party with me tonight?" he asked.


End file.
